Sherlock Series 3 Reunion
by SherlockDW2013
Summary: Based on work from deviantart. After 3 long years Sherlock Holmes decides to show himself to John Watson. However, when he goes to meet his long waiting friend, things take a heartbreaking turn...
1. Chapter 1

"We are here brother." Mycroft Holmes said and his younger sibling looked up from the floor

"Hm?" Sherlock Holmes mused

"We are here." Mycroft repeated and Sherlock looked out of the widow of the black car.

"Oh."

"Good Luck."

"I don't need luck." Sherlock snapped and got out of the car

"I will be here if you need me."

"Why would I need you either?"

"I will still be here."

"Fine." Sherlock glared at Mycroft and entered the fancy restaurant. The waiters opened the door and took his long coat with small smiles, they didn't recognise him. Why would they? Sherlock died, labelled as a fraud. Why would they want to remember a fake dead man?  
Sherlock's eyes softened and his thoughts escaped his mind as they lay upon his former flatmate. His shoulders were slumped and he had a silly moustache, but it was him.

It was has flatmate.

It was his friend.

It was his only friend.

It was John Watson.

Sherlock looked at the woman next to his flatmate, it was Mary.  
Sherlock grunted and looked back at John. He was fumbling with something in his pocket and fidgeting. Sherlock concentrated at the object in John's pocket.  
_Small. Phone?  
No, always kept in opposite pocket.  
Keys? Smaller.  
Gun? Doesn't need it.  
Wallet? Much too big…_

Box?

Yes…

Reality hit Sherlock like a ton of bricks.

It was a ring box.

John was going to propose.

As soon as he finished the thought John stood up from the table and kneeled in front of Mary, she looked at him in surprise and Sherlock heard the words clearly

"Mary, will you marry me?"

"Yes!" Mary squealed with delight

Sherlock's world came crashing down. John had forgotten about him and moved on. John didn't want Sherlock to be in his life anymore. Sherlock had tears stinging his eyes; John didn't want to know him. Would he care if Sherlock revealed himself? Sherlock grabbed his coat back from the baffled waiter and flew out of the building.

~~~

John Watson smiled as Mary agreed. He heard someone practically leap out of the door and turned to the entrance. He managed to see a black coat and a mop of dark hair leave the building

_Sherlock?_

John shook his head. That was Ridiculous! It wouldn't be him, however a part of him really wished it was.

~~~~

Sherlock could see Mycroft look up quizzically as he slammed the door shut, entered the car and barked at the driver to leave. There was no point hiding his tear-streaked face because Mycroft would notice.

"What happened?" Mycroft asked in surprise. Sherlock hadn't cried in years. Why start now?

"It's John…" Sherlock said quietly. Right now, he just wanted to be left on his own, but he knew he should explain why he was crying because Mycroft would never press the matter down.

"What wrong?"

"He's moved on! Forgotten about me like all the others!" Sherlock wiped his face and Mycroft leaned a little closer and patted Sherlock's back. Sherlock flinched at his brother's sudden touch but slumped against the door and closed his eyes

"Hush brother. I'm sure John still and always will care for you."

_No,_ Sherlock thought _John would __**never**__ care…_


	2. Chapter 2

Mycroft Holmes was worried. It had been almost a week since Sherlock had sprinted into the car, Crying.  
Crying! The great Sherlock Holmes sobbing is something nobody –not even Mother- had seen! And all over one man:

**John Watson**

Sherlock had refused to eat or even _leave_ his room for the past few days and Mycroft was growing increasingly anxious by the hour. What if he was more upset than Mycroft had thought? What if he had fallen into a state of anxiety? One thing was for sure, Sherlock had never been more _broken_.

Mycroft hovered outside Sherlock's door before hesitantly knocking lightly. Not that long after a voice floated out

"Go away, Mycroft."

"Sherlock, you have been in there for 3 days, Mother is growing ever so worried."

"I don't care."

"Please, Sherlock, just at least allow me to come in." Mycroft was growing slightly annoyed at Sherlock's immature behaviour

"No." Mycroft snapped

"Sherlock, for God Sake, pull yourself together, and Grow Up! I understand John was a very close friend of yours and you believe him to have forgotten about you but Good Lord! Sulking will not get him back! So open this door immediately otherwise I will break it down!" Mycroft breathed heavily and clenched his jaw. He heard a slow patter of footsteps from the other side of the door and heard it being unlocked.

Mycroft sighed with relief and twisted the knob slowly, he pushed open the door quietly and his eyes tried to adjust to the darkness. The room was almost pitch black, the curtains were drawn and the only light was emitting from the outside corridor. He managed to make out a tall -and extremely thin- figure sitting on the bed with his back to the door.

"Sherlock?" Mycroft whispered but the figure did not move

"Brother, are you alright?" he carefully edged closer to bed and sat next to Sherlock who's gaze did not lift from the floor.

"I'm fine." Sherlock croaked

"You certainly don't look or sound like it."

"Then why did you ask?" Sherlock snapped

"Because I am worried for you."

"I'm sorry, Mycroft…" Sherlock sighed and his shoulders slumped even lower.

"It's alright, Sherlock." Mycroft looked at Sherlock's phone which was under the lamp on the table. He reached for it and checked it; there were hundreds of deleted messages on the phone.

"Sherlock, what are these?" Mycroft questioned

"Texts."

"To whom?"

"John." Mycroft paused "I never sent them."

"There are hundreds, Brother! How long have you been doing this?"

"3 Years…"

Mycroft's eyes softened and he sighed.

"I just typed them up… And then deleted them. I could never send them; it would give me away and put John's life in danger!" Sherlock had tears streaming down his cheeks. "I didn't want that to happen! I couldn't put John's life on the line until Sebastian was found!"

"I know, brother, I know."

Mycroft pulled Sherlock into an awkward hug, the younger brother didn't try to pull away, he didn't react, and he didn't say a word. Instead, he relaxed into Mycroft's arms

"Mycroft?" Sherlock said, his voice muffled in the elder brother's jacket,

"Yes?"

"I Miss John."


	3. Chapter 3

"When will you show yourself to John, Sherlock?" Mycroft Holmes pondered to his younger brother. It had been around 3 days since Sherlock had finally decided to leave his room. Something that he was beginning to regret… a lot. Mycroft had continued to pester him about John Watson, asking him every day if he would finally show himself. Why does he care so much?

"Whenever I feel like it." Sherlock grumbled

"And when will that be?" Sherlock stayed silent "You have been in a foul mood since you left that restaurant, I understand why. However I do not understand why you constantly refuse to show yourself to your best friend. "

"He isn't my friend."

"He is and you will show yourself to him sooner or later, Sherlock. Whether you try to avoid it or not, the urge to do so will overcome you." Sherlock got up from his chair "Where are you going?"

"I need some fresh air."

"You will need bodyguards." Sherlock shrugged, at the moment, he really didn't care, as long as he was away from Mycroft.

Sherlock stared blankly out of the window of the black car, deep in thought.

_Whether you try to avoid it or not, the urge to do so will overcome you._

Those words kept replaying in his mind like a broken cassette tape. Mycroft was right; eventually he would show himself to John. But when? A day? A week? Another Year? Would John even care? What if he didn't? What if Sherlock was rejected and forgotten 3 years ago? He took out his phone and stared at the it as if it had burst into flames. He began typing quickly

**'I'm not dead. I'm so sorry John. -SH'**

Sherlock looked at the text

_Whether you try to avoid it or not, the urge to do so will overcome you._

Sherlock's thumb hovered over the send button. _Should he?_ He stared at the screen, sighed, leant back and closed his eyes.

He pressed send.


End file.
